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always keeping it real. They were firecrackers just like me.
    Eventually, a dude walked up to me. Little did I know that meeting him would be a pivotal moment in my life. The guy was tall, muscular and stocky, with a medium brown complexion and shaved head. His teeth were pearly white and unusually straight as if they’d been lined up with a ruler. He was sexy yet cocky, but there was still something different about the way he carried himself. With his white-Tee and iced out watch, he had that rugged New York swagger. Everything he had on attracted me even though it was nothing fancy, maybe because he rocked it in a different way. The shit was sexy.
    He introduced himself to me and we spoke for a while. Within minutes, he was making me blush. That was rare. I mean, the dude was so slick with his words he had me visualizing us together. I liked him right off. But then just as quickly as he’d approached me and started a conversation, he handed me a business card and said he had to go. That was definitely a first. No man had ever given me a business card before, but of course my expression didn’t show that. I simply smiled. Watching him walk away, I stuck the card in my purse.
    The very next day I called the number on the card. The phone was answered by a secretary. I asked for Dame Dash, the name on the card. Quickly, the secretary put me on hold. As I waited, a song played, one that sounded familiar. I’d been hearing it in the streets but didn’t know who the artist was. I looked at his card unsure of how he was affiliated in the music industry. Damon eventually answered. We only spoke for a moment. He said he was in the middle of business but assured me he wanted us to talk. I hung up thinking, ‘whatever!’ Then I got my detective game on.
    It was obvious Mr. Damon Dash had something going on so I decided to do some research. I didn’t want to go in blind if I didn’t have to. Since this was the late 90’s, the internet was still in its infant stages and Google nor I-phones existed, so I had to investigate the old fashioned way…ask around my hood and get my ear to the streets—fast.
    The streets always talk, especially if the subject was about one of their own. Come to find out, Mr. Dash was definitely one of their own. Not only him, but Jay -Z, too. Dame was from Harlem and Jay was from Brooklyn. Both had been well known hustlas in the streets but decided to partner up and start a record label called Roc-A-Fella Records. At that time, the label’s debut album Reasonable Doubt was making noise in the industry. Jay, as an artist, was making such an impact and he’d even appeared on a few tracks with Biggie. The Roc-A-Fella movement was beginning to take shape.
    As the summer moved on, Dame and I went out a number of times and got to know each other. He figured out I wasn’t flipping like most females if he didn’t call often or when he said he would call. Groupie characteristics just weren’t in my blood. Besides, it was difficult for us to hook up because he was so damn busy. Since Roc-A-Fella was just starting, he was heavily involved in promoting and taking the company to the next level. That was a full time job. So we got together when we could. I remember the first time seeing Jay at the office. It was awkward in the beginning since I’d never told Dame that I met Jay first and that we’d exchanged numbers. I showed up with a blank look on my face hoping Jay wouldn’t blast on me, telling the real story. He didn’t. Jay’s reaction was just as bland as mine and reeked slickness. “Oh, you look familiar,” he said to me. I smiled and we both left it alone from there. Yet in the back of my head my thoughts spiraled and I’d joke with my girls later in life: Damn, I chose the wrong nigga . Honestly, I’ll admit now that I’m older, although Dame was fly, Jay’s swagger was a little louder, a little more sexy. It’s just that I knew early in life from my experiences with Nino’s crew that the